


The Smell of Fear

by Trams



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14231904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: Guy isn't broken, but it's a close thing





	The Smell of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I am very vague about what exactly happened to Guy, it might have been Parallax, but it could have been something completely different, it isn't really important.
> 
> Also, while this is tagged as slash, it could just as well be a gen story, the Guy/Kyle stuff is barely there, it could either be something implied or a pre-slash thing.
> 
> Aaaand as always this takes place in some nebulous time after Blackest Night but before the new 52

_Right. Left Right. Left. Right. Right. Right._

Three quick jabs hitting the bag, the gloves only just dampening force of the punches. The chain rattled as the punching bag swung from the next hard punch; the only sound beside the dull thuds of his gloved fists hitting the bag over and over again. Sweat ran down his shirtless back, the room he was in warm and humid, even with the balcony door open; the evening breeze making no noticeable difference in temperature. Not that he cared, it could be as cold as antarctic and it would make no difference to him.

 _Right hand. Left hand. Right hand. Left. Right._

There was sweat on his brow, and his eyes were damp. He blinked away the damp that had gathered at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t know how long he had been at it, his arms starting to feel a little bit heavy. Muscles straining and starting to protest, but he kept going. Welcoming it, welcoming anything to distract from the anger and frustration swirling in his stomach; distracting from that hollow feeling carving out a cold deep crevasse in the middle of his chest.

 _Right. Left. Right. Left. Left. Left._

Screams echoed in his head. Large frightened eyes in faces frozen in fear; those frightened faces looking straight at him. _Right hand. Left hand._ He had witnessed it all. Gripped not by fear, but helplessness, a feeling he despised more than any other. He was proud of the control he had over his emotions – sure sometimes anger got the better of him, but he could control it eventually. He could tame his fury until it was a snarling beast held back only with a thin chain, but it could be held back. What he couldn’t handle was that feeling of weakness, of feeling like there was nothing he could do.

The anger growled and he let out a shout; loud and angry. Punching both of his fist into the bag at the same time. It broke with a pop that seemed overly loud in the otherwise silent room. Sand – white in the moonlight streaming in from the windows and balcony door – formed a pile on the floor.

He stood there panting for a moment. Hands falling to his sides. The muscles in his arms screaming at him. But when he closed his eyes he saw that other room again. The room with its reddish-brown walls he remembered were not supposed to be that color. They had been white, before he arrived.

He stalked over to the wall and punched it as hard as he could, feeling the pain even through the glove. Opening his eyes he was back in the hotel room, but he could still hear the sounds. The screams and the blood, and the sound of bodies being cut open. He started to punch the wall, needing the pain, the pain to remind him where he was, to remind him he was in his body, in control of his body. All he felt now he felt because it was his body.

He found a rhythm. _Right. Left. Right. Left._ he lost himself in the punching, drifting off into another mindset. One where it was silent. So lost in it he didn’t hear when someone landed on the balcony outside, nor when they entered the room, he only became aware when they – when _Kyle_ , spoke his name.

“Guy.”

He leaned his bare fists against the wall, a part of him noting the red smears on the wall. He closed his eyes.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Kyle said.

Guy started punching the wall again.

“Guy.”

Strong hands gripped his shoulders from behind.

“Stop it,” Kyle said. His voice holding a note of worry but trying to sound commanding.

Kyle pulled him backwards, and Guy went, but his knees gave out and he started crumpling to the ground. Kyle caught him and lowered him to the floor. He ended up sitting with his knees bent to one side, in between Kyle’s legs, leaning against Kyle’s chest. He could feel Kyle’s heart beating, through his uniform and against his bare sweaty back.

“You hands,” Kyle said, and Guy couldn’t work out the emotion in his voice. Instead he looked at his hands, and blinked a few times. He didn’t remember when he got rid of the gloves, but his pale fists looked back at him. Knuckles not just bruised but the skin torn open and blood covered half his hands.

“That explains the blood smears,” Guy said in a low voice. His hands hurt, a lot more than they had a moment ago. “What are you doing here?” Guy asked, changing the subject. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“This is exactly where I should be.” Kyle said. Wrapping warm arms around Guy’s waist. Guy wanted to lean into the touch, but he couldn’t. He shook his head.

“No.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter I am not leaving.”

Guy let his head hang forward and he felt Kyle leaning his forehead against Guy’s shoulder.

“You can’t beat yourself up,” Kyle said. Guy shivered at the way his breath ghosted against his skin. “Literally. I am not letting you.”

Guy wanted to snort, but something was twisting up his insides and what came out was a choked noise, close to a sob. He screwed his eyes shut against the itchy wet heat creeping behind his eyelids. In his lap his hands throbbed

It hadn’t been the same for him as with Kyle and Jordan. He had let it in, had said yes, thinking he would be able to control it, just long enough for the mission to be done, and then he would be able to shake it of. He wouldn’t lose control he had said.

“I couldn’t control it,” he mumbled, “I thought– I thought I could do it. We needed that information, it was the only way, but once we had it…” he swallowed hard. “I lost control.”

“I know,” Kyle said. “We all do stupid shit in this line of work, sacrificing ourselves in the line of duty.”

“I didn’t…” Guy started. He hadn’t even been thinking of it like that. His conviction in himself so strong. He was too strong-willed to fall, he could withstand it. There was nothing he was sacrificing because after all he would be in control the whole time.

“Pride,” he mumbled.

“I that what this is? Hurt pride?” Kyle asked, his hands softly grasping Guy’s fists, and he almost pulled his hands away, but managed to keep them still while they were bathed in cool green light from Kyle’s ring, healing scrapes and bruises.

Guy closed his eyes and saw again the frightened faces, the eyes full of terror as they looked at him. He was the reason for their fear, and he shuddered remembering it. Remembering seeing it all trapped in his own mind no control over his body and his actions.

“No. But...”

It had worked to start with, the last ditch attempt had given them the edge, the advantage they needed but then afterwards. Afterwards he had just been swept along on a ride of madness; of fear; of blood and death. He had screamed himself hoarse except not a sound had escaped his lips, except for that inhuman mocking laugh that wasn’t his.

He twisted around so that he could watch Kyle’s face, noticing that while he was wearing his uniform he didn’t wear the mask.

“Was it worth it?” He asked. Unsure what possible answer Kyle could give that would ease the way his chest had constricted, what could possibly fill up the emptiness he felt inside of himself?

Kyle didn’t answer right away, expression unreadable.

“I took innocent lives,” Guy said. “I tortured and killed. After the crisis was over. We saved the world, but they died because of me.” Did one act weigh out the other? He wasn’t sure.

“We should have prevented it,” Kyle said. “Me, Hal, John, we should have made sure not to turn our backs on you. We should have prevented it from running off with you.”

“And if I hadn’t been so convinced I would be strong enough to stay in control you wouldn’t have had to keep your eyes on me,” Guy said. “If I hadn’t let it in…”

“Then maybe we would have failed, and the world would have ended.”

“There have been a lot of world ending events prevented, we would have thought of something. So, was it really worth it?”

Kyle was silent and then inhaled deeply.

“I don’t know.”

Guy let out a shaky breath, his eyes falling closed.

“I wish I could have a better answer for you. I wish our life had more easy answers.” Kyle fell silent, and Guy didn’t know what to say. He wanted to get up again, wanted to keep hitting that wall until he fell apart from exhaustion, but he sat still.

“Guy,” Kyle said after a moment.

He opened his eyes and looked at Kyle.

“I know you don’t believe that because you thought you would be able to control it you don’t think you were sacrificing anything. You didn’t think you were sacrificing you life or your pride, but...” Kyle licked his lips. “We all saw your sacrifice something.”

“What’s that.”

“Your sanity.”

Guy raised an eyebrow.

“We know what you think Guy, you aren’t exactly quiet or subtle about it,” Kyle said, a small smile. “We now you think you are the best, the strongest, the one with the most willpower,” he paused. “That’s when you are supposed to chime in with a ‘damn right’ or ‘hell yeah’.”

Guy huffed out a breath and looked down at the floor, shaking his head.

“Don’t go shy on me all of a sudden,” Kyle said. “Alright, fine. We know all of that about you. That’s why we knew what it might cost you if something went wrong. Hurt pride you would get over, but your mind.”

“My pride getting hurt isn’t going to break me,” Guy protested.

“No, but the rest might have. What you had to watch happen and not being able to do anything?”

Once again the memories came to his mind, unbidden, and so clear still. Sound, images, the smells. The smells were the worst; the smell of fear something hard to define and yet to pervasive, mixed with the very real smells of blood, and urine from the terrified prisoners. 

He closed his eyes. Meanwhile Kyle continued talking, “and then when we ripped it out of you, there was no telling what might have gotten lost in the process.”

“I am not broken,” Guy said. To Kyle? To himself? The universe? The entity still flying around at large in space?

“I’m not,” he repeated. He opened his eyes and looked at Kyle who looked so hesitant that Guy looked away. They stayed silent for a moment. Guy staring at the open balcony door, wondering when he would start believing his own assurance.

“What now?” Guy asked after a couple of near silent beats, somewhere outside a bird had started to sing.

“You move forward,” Kyle said. “A little bit each day. I will be there for you. As will John and Hal.”

“I don’t—” Guy got up on his feet, and took a few steps away, shaking himself. “I don’t need—”

“You don’t need help,” Kyle interrupted. Guy didn’t look at him. “Don’t need us. Yeah, I know you say that, but you know, and I know, you don’t believe that.”

“You do need us,” Kyle continued. “You need people. I know you think you have to push everyone away, but. You are not a loner, Guy. And no one is buying the act. You need the corps. You need us.”

Guy bit his lip, still looking at the floor, and trying to ignore how close to the mark Kyle was hitting. There was a lump in his throat making it hard to swallow, his chest constricting making it hard to breathe.

“You filled Warriors back on Earth with memorabilia from the corps, hell you had a fricking statue of Hal there. We all know how much it means to you. And we are here for you. You just have to let us in.”

The embers of anger in the pit of his stomach flared to life.

“I can’t!” Guy shouted and punched the wall, except something cushioned the blow, and when he looked at his fist saw it had hit a green paisley construct pillow. He whirled on Kyle, who was giving him a level look, lowering his hand again, and letting the pillow wink out of existence.

“No more punching walls,” Kyle said. “You are only supposed to break your fist punching bad guys.”

“Yeah, well there aren’t any bad guys here,” Guy muttered, looking down at the ground. “And with you going on about me being weak I could really use something to punch.”

“I am not saying you are weak,” Kyle said, in such a familiar tone it doused the fire in his stomach before it could even start. This he had heard before from Kyle.

“It’s not a weakness to need people,” Kyle said. “We’ve been over this.” And they had been over it. The problem really lay in Kyle being more trusting, having a different experience of belonging in groups than Guy did. 

“Besides, what do you care what people think of you?”

Guy looked up at Kyle again. Taken aback a little by the question, he blurted out the truth before considering it.

“I care what you think.”

Kyle looked at him from where he was still sitting on the floor, expression considering before he said, “well, my opinion on you hasn’t changed,” Kyle said, “And I am always going to have your back, because you are my partner.”

“You regret that yet?” Guy asked.

“What? Being your partner? Nah, better than having Hal as my partner. You might have some crazy plans, but his are just plain suicidal all the time.”

Guy couldn’t help smiling at that, and watched Kyle get up on his feet.

“Come on, let’s see if we can find somewhere to grab a beer in this place. What made you pick Australia to hide out in?”

Guy shrugged, he hadn’t actually been thinking too much about where, just gone to a city and found himself a hotel room.

“Beer sounds like a great plan.”

Perhaps drinking would make the memories go away, or at least dull them for the time being until enough time had passed that he could move on. Move forward a little bit every day, he thought. Worth a shot.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember how exactly I had planned for this to end because I took a break for a month and a half between starting this and finishing it, but I suspect this wasn't how I had planned it. But oh well.


End file.
